


i think i'm in love with you.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Character Death, Depression, Falling In Love, Gen, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Letters, Love, Love Letters, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Solo Love Letters Exchange, Unrequited Love, Volleyball Dorks in Love, but then oikawa doesn't do anything so its technically not pining?, but then they don't do anything about said love, you think its fluff but it really isn't it's just a big ball of angst and crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: when iwaizumi goes through oikawa's old apartment, he finds a collection of oikawa's old, unopened letters to him.and for the first time in months, he lets himself cry.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 15
Kudos: 124





	i think i'm in love with you.

**Author's Note:**

> this was not meant to be so angsty i swear—

Iwaizumi took in a deep breath as he entered the dilapidated house. The house was untouched, as it had been for months, spirals of dust dancing in the air, light from the grimy windows illuminating on them, showing every movement of the particles, thick in the stifling air, suffocating. Iwaizumi’s hands balled tightly into fists as he stepped into the house, not even bothering to take off his shoes; the house was abandoned after all.

It’s been abandoned ever since it happened. 

Keeping the black mask on his face, Iwaizumi entered the storage room, eyes watering slightly as he caught sight of the stacks and stacks of moving boxes in the room, unlabelled and messily shoved into the room, like whoever had stored it was in a rush, like they had planned to leave. He had to move everything out. He had to move everything out by today. It was his job.

No one was there to do it for him after all.

Slowly, Iwaizumi took the tallest box he could reach, muscles tensing as he brought it down to the floor. Stiffly, he sat on the floor, not noticing the dust that had layered on it. Even if he did, it wasn’t significant enough for him to care. The only thing that mattered to him now was the boxes. His only concern was moving the boxes. Just the boxes. No looking into any of them. No lingering gazes. Just the boxes. It was all that was important.

Because they were the remains of him that were left behind.

But as soon as the box was in front of him, his resolve shattered. With trembling fingers, Iwaizumi opened the first box. It was the only labelled one, a large heart drawn on the side in the shaky style of drawing so familiar to Iwaizumi, the incoherent, unreadable scribbles on the side of the box feeling even more comforting to him than his own house. It was familiar, like something out of his childhood. It was nice.

It was just as he remembered. 

As he opened the flaps of the cardboard box, a cloud of dust blew itself up at him, a coughing fit overtaking him as he waved his hands to clear the dust away. As soon as the dust cleared, he steeled himself, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself to look into the box. The dust still clouded the air, stinging his eyes, yet his heart stung more. Clenching his fists, as if it could comfort him, Iwaizumi took several more short, desperate breaths, before blinking his eyes. They pricked with tears.

After minutes, Iwaizumi finally looked into the box.

On the top of the box was a photo frame, cheap painted wood framing a picture so recognizable to him. A familiar figure stood next to him in the photo, both their faces youthful, child-like, barely six as Iwaizumi stood on tiptoes, trying to make himself taller than the boy next to him. The boy standing next to him had a bright smile on his face, as he always did, face shining brighter than the sun. His soft dark brown hair seemed to glow in the sunlight, eyes wide and curious as he looked at the butterfly caught in Iwaizumi’s net, photo caught mid-laughter as they observed the creature together. It was picture perfect: two smiling boys playing on rolling green fields, sun peeking through fluffy clouds soaring overhead, painting the majestic expanse of blue sky. 

It was happiness as Iwaizumi remembered it.

Iwaizumi turned the photo frame, his eyes catching sight of something lodged in the frame, a cream envelope pressed into the frame along with the picture, messily taped onto the frame. Curiosity bubbled in him as he peeled the backing of the photoframe away, gingerly taking the letter in his hands. The back of the letter was written in barely intelligible handwriting, a childish scrawl across the back of the envelope in waxy crayons, colors alternated to look like the rainbow. On the front of the envelope was a drawing of two people standing on a grassy field, lines unsure, childish. There was a kind of innocence in the shaky crayon lines and unstable penmanship, and Iwaizumi held tight onto it.

And as he wrote the writing on the back of the envelope, his heart squeezed in yearning.

_To: Iwa-chan (Iwaizumi Hajime)  
Address: The house next door  
From: Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
**_27 july, 2000_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_Today was the first time we met. You just moved in next door, but I think we’ll be good friends!_

_I tried to stop my mom from bringing me next door because the person who used to live there was scary, but I was happy I found you instead. Mom never told me that someone new was moving in next door, but I’m happy that you did. Your mom was nice; she made me and my sister brownies and sent it to our doorstep today as a present — it tasted so good and chocolatey!_

_Also, I can’t believe you know how to ride a bike. I tried to ride my sister’s bike once, but I fell and scraped my knee on the road. I haven’t tried again since then because my knee’s still hurt, but you need to teach me how to ride a bike one day, it’s the coolest thing ever._

_I heard my mom talking to your mom today, and she said she’s bringing me to your house so we can play together again. When I heard that, I got so excited that I stopped playing with toy cars and started writing this letter. I don’t know if I’ll ever give it to you, but I hope I do!_

_Tomorrow will be a good day. I hope we meet again, Iwa-chan, so you can teach me how to ride that bike!_

_— Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
A smile pressed itself into Iwaizumi’s lips. He never did teach Oikawa how to ride a bike. He did try, but it only ever ended with Oikawa pedalling too slow and falling, and Iwaizumi having to carry him back home to treat his knee. Hugging Oikawa and buying him milk bread while he cried felt like yesterday, having to wash his knee and help him with the bandage in school, and having to help him back home whenever they came back home from school, his best friend’s arm slung across his shoulder, a barrage of complaints rising in the air from Oikawa, constantly complaining about the knee amidst Iwaizumi’s sharped tongued replies. It felt like yesterday, yet the memory was faded in his mind, barely clinging onto it.

Had it really been that long?

Slowly, Iwaizumi put the picture frame away, heart heavy as it rested on the floor beside him. Once he tore his eyes away from the frame, he took another object from the box, heavy against his hand. It was a volleyball, one that was so familiar to Iwaizumi. It was a torn up one, with patches of fluff all over it with torn up sections. It was their first volleyball, one that they saved up weeks for from loose change and birthday money to buy together. In the end, their parents still had to help them pay for it, but they cherished it forever. They kept it in Oikawa’s yard, in the wooden milk crate they always put it back in after a volleyball session. It was still here, decades later, sitting in the same broken in milk crate. The only difference was that it was age old.

As his fingers closed around the crate, something brushed against his fingers, a crinkle of paper filling the silent room. Slowly, he turned the crate, looking to see where the noise had come from. A crumpled letter was pasted on the back of the milk crate, old and grass stained, like it had been left out in a field to be rained on. Flipping the letter over, Iwaizumi blinked his tears away, eyes glassy. The penmanship was neater, a practiced address written in a ballpoint pen, more mature than the previous. Scratchy and boyish, the handwriting was familiar. 

Iwaizumi would have recognized it no matter where he saw it.

_To: Iwa-chan (Iwaizumi Hajime)  
Address: The house next door  
From: Oikawa Tooru_

With a shaking breath, he opened the letter.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_10 june, 2003_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_We celebrated your 9th birthday together again today, it was so much fun!_

_This year was the first time you had a party with someone other than your mom, dad and me, so I was sad that we didn’t spend as much time together as we usually do. At the party, I sat in the corner because I missed how we used to just play volleyball in the backyard on your birthday and eat agedashi tofu all day, because that’s what you loved doing. Every year, your face lights up, and the happiest smile in the world appears._

_Today, all your friends that I don’t know came over. Even if I talked to them, I don’t get the same feeling as I do when I talk to you. When I talk to them, I have to make myself smile a lot and be happy so they can like me. When I talk to you, I don’t have to make myself smile all the time, and we can do anything for hours with me just being… me. Spending time with you is much more fun than spending time with your friends, but it’s your birthday, so it’s not my choice on how you spend it._

_But, when you told me that your mom allowed me to sleep over tonight, I was so excited. I can’t believe that your mom surprised us with a sleepover, she’s the best! We played volleyball with your parents like we always did; I tossed to you, and you hit it over the net. It was perfect almost every single time we did it. We beat your parents in a volleyball match, finally!_

_At night, your parents made us barbecue for dinner, and cookies for dessert before they set up a tent for us to sleep in for the night. But, we didn’t sleep in the tent. We just took out our mattresses and laid it on the grass. When you hugged me close as we went to sleep, you smelt familiar. It reminded me of home._

_I don’t know why, but my heart beats fast around you. It feels nice, Iwa-chan._

_— Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
Iwaizumi gripped the letter in his fist, tears threatening to escape his eyes. The first time he and Oikawa did a set perfectly, the first time he spiked Oikawa’s toss, the first time they got a score over the net perfectly without it catching against the edges of the net. He remembered hugging Oikawa when they won their first set ever against Oikawa’s parents, how they gorged on cookies and milk to celebrate their win, the joy blooming in his heart when his parents let Oikawa come over for their first sleepover, how they tried to count the stars in the night sky, even if Oikawa fell asleep after the hundreth one and there were still millions more to go. 

_My heart was beating fast too, Tooru._

His eyes rested on the volleyball for several more moments, before he put it aside, placing it next to the photo frame. Moving back to the box, Iwaizumi took the next object in his hands. He remembered Oikawa holding the plaque in his long fingers like it was yesterday, the sheen of ‘best setter award’ gleaming against his dark eyes, the pride that filled him when he saw his best friend receive the honor, non stop chatter about his accomplishment for months. The name ‘Kitagawa Daiichi’ was engraved proudly on the plaque below Oikawa’s name, glinting back at Iwaizumi.

A letter was stuck onto the front of the plaque, adhered neatly with a thin piece of scotch tape, firmly pressed onto the metal. Iwaizumi peeled it off, flipping the letter to look at the text written on the back. It said the same thing as the previous two, but in a more mature, tall font, elongated, beautiful handwriting. The paper was yellowed, aged and full of crinkles with the scent of old times, but Iwaizumi didn’t care. He simply peeled the envelope open, and began reading.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_16 february, 2007_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_We got our acceptance letters into Kitagawa Daiichi today. I can’t believe we’re going to the same school! I cried when we got our letters in the mail together. You hugged me and told me I shouldn’t cry because it’s something I should be happy about. I told you I was crying because I was happy, and you hugged me closer. It felt nice, Iwa-chan._

_When we got to Kitagawa Daiichi, I want to do so many things together with you. I want to join the volleyball team, and we can be the best setter-ace duo in the whole of Japan! We can have lunch together every day, buy food at the convenience store to eat after practice, and go to matches together so we can win the Inter-Middle competition._

_But when we go to Kitagawa Daiichi, I’m scared you’ll forget me. I’m scared that I’ll sit in the corner of birthday parties while you talk with your friends, or be left behind when you finally start dating someone in middle school. Even if you do, I want us to still be together like we always were._

_Please don’t forget me, Iwa-chan._

_— Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
As he closed the letter, a pin pricked at his heart. On the opposite side of the letter was a bucket list of activities, only half of the checkboxes crossed off. It was filled with the weird, mundane things Oikawa got him to do, like share an ice cream flavour that they’d never tried or look at different bike stores for a bike that they could buy, even if Oikawa couldn’t even ride them properly. It was the little things Oikawa got him to do amidst his complaints, the things he would insist they had to do before they graduated school.

But the other half of the list, the unchecked ones, made Iwaizumi’s heart clench.

_□ Take Iwa-chan with me to the mall and buy him all the food that he wants, because he eats too little after practice.  
□ Grow plants in the garden with Iwa-chan, because he’s the only one who can keep them alive despite my presence  
□ Skip school with Iwa-chan, so we can do everything we want to do  
□ Hug Iwa-chan again  
□ Hug Iwa-chan when I’m not crying  
□ Let Iwa-chan hug me  
~~□ Tell Iwa-chan I love him  
□ Let him tell me I love you too~~_

Iwaizumi bit his trembling lips as he looked at the letter, placing it back in the envelope, sealing it again. He never hugged Tooru unless he cried. He never hugged Tooru when they won. He never hugged Tooru just because he felt like it. He never said anything out of the ordinary. He never said anything out of the affection he had in the face of Tooru’s bright smile. He never did anything for Tooru unless he needed him to. He never did anything in excess, and he hated it.

And now Tooru’s last list was incomplete because of him.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_1 april, 2010_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_We began our time on the Seijoh volleyball team today, and we lost our first match today._

_I cried because I thought I was responsible for us losing, because I was the substitute setter in replacement of the original one. During practice after the match, I told coach I would lock up the gym after I was finished. I didn’t think you would notice that I stayed back to practice more sets and serves, but you did. On my last spike, I fell on my knee. You held me while I cried. It’s the third time you ever did, but it still feels as warm as I remember._

_As the nurses rushed me to the hospital for my leg, you were beside me, always close. Even when I went to the OR for an emergency operation, you stayed outside, and waited for me until I woke up again from the anaesthesia. When my parents left to get us food every night, you held my hand and told me stories of the team that I’d missed because of my injury. You told me about everything that happened in practice, the funny things Mattsun and Maki did because they missed all four of us being in the gym as usual. You told me about the get well soon cards overflowing my locker, hitting my head when I got too arrogant about my popularity. Despite my boasting, I didn’t care about a single one of the cards those girls sent to my locker — all that mattered to me was that you were here, holding my hand, and telling me stories of the days I missed on the court. I missed volleyball, but being here was even better than that._

_My heart’s beating so fast, and it aches for you when you leave the room to go back home. It’s beating so fast, Iwa-chan. I don’t know if I can take it._

_— Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
Tears were now tracing lines down Iwaizumi’s face, wet against pallid cheeks, eyes reddened. The day Oikawa was rushed into the ER was still as clear as day in his memory, the fear churning through him familiar as he waited outside the room for Oikawa. He remembered his heart breaking as he heard Oikawa’s faint sobs from inside the patient room, clutching his knee as he cursed his inability to walk, to run, to jump, to set. He remembered when Oikawa collapsed on the floor from trying to walk without his crutches, Iwaizumi catching him before he fell onto the ground. He held Oikawa’s hand through it all, letting him cry on the shoulder through the pain of missing matches, through the pain of being unable to do what he loved most. 

If only Oikawa knew how much he was breaking inside too.

If only Oikawa knew how much his heart broke as he watched Oikawa writhe in his sleep from the pain and the nightmares, when he cried in his sleep. If only Oikawa could see the nights he cried himself to sleep on the visitor’s sofa in Oikawa’s hospital room, covering his face in the morning so Oikawa couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see what he was like.

Couldn’t see him broken.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_2 march, 2013_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_We graduate today. I can’t believe we did it._

_But I can’t believe you’re leaving me again._

_When the school officially announced the end of our highschool career and let us throw our caps and gowns in the air, everyone cheered. You were cheering too, but no matter how hard I tried to make myself cheer in the same way everyone did, I couldn’t. When I threw up my cap and gown into the sky like everyone else did, the only thing that entered my mind was you having to leave me, and that I’ll probably never see you again._

_I wish you got into the Japan team with me, Iwa-chan. I wish you did._

_Some people say soulmates are real, though not necessarily your lover. Since we were six, I’ve always toyed with the idea that you were my soulmate. It was cool; we did everything together, we shared all our secrets with each other, keeping age old promises and maintaining bets we made full decades ago as childish kids. When the concept of soulmates formed itself in my mind, I always thought you were mine. We spent every waking moment together — was it really hard to believe?_

_But now you’re going, and I don’t know if we’re soulmates anymore._

_Even if you’ll never read this letter, I want you to know that your existence in itself keeps me going. The way your rare smiles shine like rays on a clear, cloudless day, the way you know what I’m thinking, like a psychic capable of reading only my mind. Or the way you hug me whenever I cry after we lose a match, holding me up even when I’m about to crumble to pieces, right next to me when I needed you the most. I want to believe that you’re my soulmate, even if it may only go one way. Even if you may not love me too._

_I think I’m in love with you, Iwa-chan._

_— Oikawa Tooru_  
  


* * *

  
  
Iwaizumi wished they stayed together. He wished they went to the same university, that he was good enough to qualify for the Japan team just as Oikawa did. He wished they could’ve stayed together through everything, through everything Oikawa put himself through. He would never stop wishing that he was there to hug Oikawa when he cried as he left for university, that he was there to wipe his tears away when he was all the way across the country. He would never stop wishing that he was there for Oikawa.

He would never stop wishing that he stayed by his side.

He would never stop wishing that he was there to stop it.

That he was there to stop everything.

It was the recurring thought that haunted him as he slept, the replayal of his last moments of sanity the nightmare he would never escape from. The thoughts that he could’ve done something, the fact that he could’ve stopped everything never failed to grow in him, overtaking him, ruling him.

Oikawa Tooru was a nightmare he would never wake up from.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_9 october, 2016_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan,_

_I cut myself today. I lost the match._

_I didn’t set the last toss strong enough. I didn’t dive for the receive fast enough. My muscles tensed up too much, I didn’t practice enough. I didn’t spend long enough in the gym when I should have stayed after time. I messed up the first serve. I messed up the second one too. Japan lost at the Olympics today, Iwa-chan._

_It’s my fault. It’s my fault again._

_There’s blood on the floor, Iwa-chan. There’s blood all over the counter and on the knife. There’s blood all over my hands, but I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel anything Iwa-chan; I can only see the blood dripping down my hands. I can’t feel the stinging of the cuts. I can’t feel the burn of the pain. I can only feel the ice, Iwa-chan. I can only feel the icy cold engulfing me. I can’t breathe, Iwa-chan. It’s like I’m underwater. I can’t breathe._

_Iwa-chan, please help me. Please help me. I don’t know what to do Iwa-chan. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

_Please save me._

_— Oikawa Tooru.  
  
_

* * *

  
  
The knife in Oikawa’s hands, glistening red as Iwaizumi called him an ambulance from all the way across the country. Oikawa’s sobs as he called Iwaizumi over the phone, voice crackling from the static, tears pouring in heavy heaves as Oikawa tried to calm himself, incoherent mumbles escaping from his lips. Iwaizumi trying to keep calm as he heard Tooru’s cries, how he had to bite his lip to keep the tears from coming out. He had to stay strong, he had to. He had to stay strong for Tooru. He had to be strong for his best friend. 

Because he couldn’t be strong for himself. 

He had to keep back the tears, he had to tell Tooru that everything was alright. He had to smile at Tooru when he called him back after the hospital visit, he had to tell him everything was all right. He had to make Tooru promise to never hurt himself again, heart breaking as he watched the conflict on Tooru’s face built at the promise, face twisting in hesitance as he made his promise. 

“You don’t know if I’ll keep the promise,” he’d said. “It’s only words.” 

“Then I pray that you care for me enough to keep the promise.” 

Oikawa never called him back since that day. Iwaizumi didn’t call back. He regretted it. He knew he should have. He knew he should’ve checked on him. He knew he should have called Tooru after all that happened, or stayed by his side in Tokyo, or did _something_. But life swept him up, and he would curse it every single day of his life. He cursed himself for not calling back. He cursed himself for not being next to Tooru. 

He cursed himself for not being with Tooru. 

He should have been there to hug Tooru. He should have been there to hold his hand, to thumb away the tears as they streamed down Tooru’s face, to change the bandages on his wrist from the long gashes left on the skin. He should have been there to hug Tooru, to say his last ‘I love you’, even if it was his first. He should have taken a leave from school to take care of him, to stay by his side when he wept over missed practices, to mend back his broken pieces. He should have been there to fix him. He should have been there for him. He should have been there to stop it all. He should have been there to save him. But he wasn’t. 

And so the last time he saw Tooru was as he laid on the floor, dead.  
  


* * *

  
  
**_24 december, 2016_ **  
_Dear Iwa-chan, < _

__

__

_Today’s the last day on earth. I only know that because of the knife in my hands._

_But I want to write one last letter to you, because you deserve it, Iwa-chan._

_I hope you don’t cry, Iwa-chan, because I won’t be there to hug you. I won’t be there to wipe away your tears and let you hug me. I hope you’ll move on from everything. I hope you’ll find someone nice. I hope you’ll find someone you can start a family with, kids who you can teach volleyball while telling them stories about a childhood friend you once had, about a childhood friend who’d beat you at everything, about a childhood friend who loved you more than anything in the world. But don’t tell them about this, just tell them I left. Tell them I moved on._

_Don’t tell them about this chapter._

_Settle down, marry someone, start a family and have kids. Have little Iwaizumis running around and spiking volleyballs with the serious face you always have, and I’ll smile as I watch you from up here, because I’ll rest knowing that you’re happy. I’ll know that you were happy even without me. I wish it could be me. I wish it could be me that marries you in the end, that starts a family, that settles down with you in the end, but I know it can’t be. I just know it can’t._

_I’m sorry I’m like this, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry I can’t stop the knife. I’m sorry I can’t stop the end. I’m sorry I can’t stop the blood pouring down. I’m sorry I can’t hug you one last time, that I can’t hear your voice one last time._

_I’m sorry I can’t stop anything._

___Goodbye may seem like forever,_  
Farewell is like the end,  
But in my heart’s a memory,  
And there you’ll always be. 

_I love you, Iwa-chan. I love you more than anything in this life. Please don’t forget me._

_Please don’t._

_— Oikawa Tooru_

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed the fic! i honestly didn't have much inspiration for this fic (other than this chill mix made by ambition on yt called 'i think i'm in love with you'), but now that it's written, i'm glad that i wrote it. i hope you liked this short one short! all criticisms, kudos and comments are welcome <3
> 
> — turnabout cafe


End file.
